So there I was, updating my social sphere with, “Almost hitting the pavement. Wouldn’t say no to hitching a ride,” on both Twitter and Facebook. Lo and behold, within the span of a quick coffee break, a Ford Focus rolled up. Behind the wheel? Only the most charming lady you could imagine, greeting me like we were long-lost friends. Sure, I might’ve made it back on my own steam, but let’s be real – when I fired off that update, my knee was throwing a tantrum, and I was bracing myself for what felt like an epic trek back, capped off with a cautious bike ride home. The drama? Courtesy of this morning’s misadventure up on the ridge.
Mission: Baldy Mountain
The day’s agenda was straightforward: pedal from my doorstep to conquer Baldy Mountain. It turned out to be a rollercoaster of emotions. One minute, I’m all gung-ho about summiting, the next, it’s looking grim. The turning point came when optimism was at an all-time low. I hit a peak, gazed over at the Baldy ridgeline, and… yeah, not happening. The only way forward was to wade through neck-deep snow for a good quarter mile to reach the clearer ridge, followed by a lengthy traverse. But, plot twist: I forgot my snowshoes. Classic me. So, I turned tail.
Stony Retreat
Then, as if scripted by Murphy himself, disaster struck. My foot crashed through the snow, burying itself up to the shin, and all my weight shifted forward. The snow crust might as well have been concrete, giving my leg a jolt that screamed “something’s wrong.” Luckily, I managed to clamber up to the ridge and hobble down its stony backbone with all the grace of a newborn deer.
Trek over the North Bridgers to Hylite
The ridge, swept by the wind, spared me from some of the snow, but as I neared my snow bike’s hiding spot, I was breaking through the surface left and right. My knee began to voice its displeasure, and I took a few unscheduled dives. My leg was definitely not on board, shocked and weak, utterly indifferent to the stunning day or the breathtaking view of the Hyalite region, with Baldy taunting me in the background. Nope, my leg was staging a full-on protest, embodying the essence of “angry leg.”
Reflecting on it, that social media shout-out did snag me a lift home, but all things considered, it was a solid day. Guess it’s time to take “angry leg” out for another whirl this arvo – wish us luck!
“I don’t know, I am spitting up blood and have asthma …”
— Rebecca Rush 2014
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